


we have always lived in the castle

by incognitini



Category: Children of Ares, John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Complicated Relationships, F/F, F/M, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Multi, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitini/pseuds/incognitini
Summary: You’d clawed your way into some form of stability over the past seven years, and then she arrives. You can see it all crumbling before your eyes, and yet--
Relationships: Original Character(s)/Reader, Reader & Original Characters, The Elder/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	we have always lived in the castle

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [children of ares;](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585043) by [thedarklings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarklings/pseuds/thedarklings). 



> A secret santa gift. Your family runs the factories that make all of the underworld's specialty weapons. It was inevitable when you were married off to the Elder, and you've made a life for yourself by his side (and his brother's). Then V arrives. Fic spans the entirety of V's stay in the desert.

i.

Your husband vets candidates for his inner circle with enough frequency for her presence to not be a surprise to you. What _is_ a surprise is the level of interest he shows when he mentions her. He’s careful in hiding that interest, but your years together and a lifetime of finding survival in the details has always served you well. So you find yourself here, studying the infamous Vipress.

The first morning of your… observational studies, you borrow a cloak from a servant, pull the rough fabric loosely around your shoulders in an effort to obscure your silhouette as much as possible, and stand outside the practice ring. Her eyes flicker to you for the briefest of seconds before training back onto her opponent. Never have you felt more dismissed and acknowledged at the same time.

She’s beautiful to watch on the field, all lean muscle and quick grace. But there’s a wariness and tightness to her movements that doesn’t escape your keen eye. You know that feeling, of surviving, but not quite living.

Over time, the weeks spent in the sand polish her form, and she moves like liquid diamond, a fluid flurry of sharp, hard cuts that strike when you least expect. You stay back when the rest of the men startle forward at her match with your husband. She makes for a striking figure there in the golden glow of the sand and the endless vastness of blue sky. You see her confidence bloom and your sense of foreboding follows suit.

Everything will change.

ii.

The real Rafik, _your_ Rafik, visits you only once during the Vipress’s entire stay. You know why— the Elder is a meticulous man who prefers to leave nothing to chance, and he trusts his people, but knows mistakes happen— yet his absence still stings. Your heart sinks further when he spends half his precious time talking with that woman.

When he finally leaves her and arrives at your tent, you pull him in by the collar of his shirt and immediately pin him to the bed. His lips are at your neck, and your fingers are threaded through his hair, _mine, mine, mine,_ and you make up for lost time as much as you remind yourselves of all that you have lost.

You wake up in a state of bliss, curled against his strong body. There’s a comfortable silence, until the demands of the world trickle in with the sunlight through the opening of the tent.

“What will happen to me if she stays?” You ask as you trace light circles on his chest.

You were born into power, and perhaps for that reason, understand the precariousness of that kind of power with a deeper intimacy than most.You’re the daughter of the largest arms and munitions manufacturer in the world, a princess in your own right even if it weren’t for your marriage to the Elder. But a princess of the underworld is still stuck in the damn underworld.

Rafik’s brow furrows, and he sighs. You can see the puzzle pieces rearrange in his head, and he pulls you tight against him when they fully click. You hadn’t realized how much your apprehension had him on edge until now when you feel his muscles relax. Uncertainty still broils inside of you, but you accept his offered comfort.

“There is nothing in our laws that prevents him from taking another bride.” He’s careful to be gentle with his words.

“Sister-wives make for poor tv, and I’m sure an even shittier reality,” you snark back. You sigh. “I’m sorry, we don’t have enough time together for me to pick fights with you like this.”

He brings your hand to his face, and you commit to memory the feel of his stubble. “No, love, it’s okay. I get it. But know that I would never let anything happen to you.”

The ease with which Rafik makes bold statements like that always takes you aback. You know that he knows the fickleness of the world you both live in, yet there’s an easy confidence to each and every promise he makes. Promises made just for you.

“Although should I be worried that you suddenly care about my brother’s attention so much?” Rafik’s voice is light and teasing, the rough tenor playful as always, but there’s an edge to it that surprises you. You swat his shoulder and chase his concern away with a devouring kiss. You will not let the Elder rule this conversation.

“What is she like, the Vipress?” you ask.

“I enjoyed our chat a lot,” Rafik chuckles at your narrowed eyes. “You should try talking to her, I think you’d find more common ground than you’d expect.”

He holds your gaze then, and there’s a plea there that you understand. _Talk to her, welcome her._

_And then if she stays, maybe you can finally be mine._

Sometimes you wish he would just take you away, his brother’s politics be damned. Sometimes you wish you didn’t need him to. You dream of many what-if’s, but maybe if you hadn’t met him like this, you wouldn’t be you, he wouldn’t be himself, and the two of you wouldn’t be here together, in each other’s arms. Sometimes that has to be enough.

iii.

Rafik’s words dog your waking moments, and so you finally bring yourself to formally meet her. By then, you’d already watched her practice matches many times over.

She looks every much her namesake as she appraises you, and you can’t help but tense. She’s steady, calculating, and anticipating your every move. But there’s a kind of detachment there, her reaction more instinctive than personal. She’s developed a rapport with many others here, but you’ve always insisted on your distance.

“I didn’t think I’d get to appreciate some New York fashion here,” she says with a nod towards the intricate silk lace peaking out from the sleeve of your cloak. There’s a question there too, which she asks with her eyes. You give a wry smile.

A flicker of uncertainty slips through her careful expression, just the slightest hint before she’s ever the poised assassin once more. A little bit of homesickness that touches a part of you that you keep buried.

“We’re both a bit far from home,” you offer. Something flashes in her eyes at your assumption. You make a conscious effort to soften your demeanor. You hadn’t meant for it to sound like a threat. “But sometimes home is closer than we think.”

You think about moonlit nights with Rafik, sitting side by side, his scarf wrapped around your neck, your hand in his. You wonder about what late night conversations she’s had with your husband.

The conversation that you and the Vipress have is anything but easy, the awkwardness of that first exchange of sentences still lingering, but there is a genuineness to it that surprises you, much like Rafik had said it would. There is a kindness to her that is anything but soft, but no less compelling.

You want to hate her in the way that can be borne only of the type of jealousy one must keep secret in their heart, but you don’t. The kind of energy needed to learn someone from afar as deeply as you have tried to learn her is a type of love in and of itself. The jealousy is too.

You both walk away with a little bit more than you came into it with. You never have another heart to heart again, but when she sees you around, she gives you a half smile, and each time you return her gesture with the same.

iv.

Months pass in the strangest facsimile of time you’ve encountered yet. Some days are an eternity, and some disappear in a single breath. You’ve heard whisperings of the Vipress’s deal with your husband and know that the time has come.

And you know from the set of your husband’s jaw what her answer had been. Seeing that, a flash of old anger sparks through you. You can’t help but chase the scent of blood in water, and you softly ask, “And? What did our Vipress say?”

The Elder’s jaw clenches even further, until he is a statue cut from the hardest stone. “You already know.”

“Yes, I do,” you practically whisper the words, the edge of your lips quirked with quiet mockery. You both hear the echo of that ceremony those years ago, the one that’d bound your lives together. You don’t know who you’re taunting, him or yourself. The tension continues for a few minutes until you’re just tired and sad.

For once, you’re the one to call a truce when you reach out and place a hesitant, but gentle, hand on his shoulder. You’re surprised when he leans into the touch.

He breaks the silence. “I know about Rafik.”

Your eyes widen. “I—”

The Elder raises his hand to gesture for you to stop your excuses before they start. You watch him warily. There is the gun you keep behind the headboard of the bed ten feet away, and a knife that you keep strapped to your thigh, not that it would matter because—

“Relax, wife.” He gives you a rueful smile. “There is little happiness in our world, and I cannot begrudge anyone for valuing it.”

The stress melts out of your shoulders. There are years of contention between you and your husband, but as he promised when you first met, he has always been sincere. And you have never before seen him this pensive and lost for words. When you don’t immediately turn to leave, he confides in you, just a little. He gives you the bare facts, and allows you a glimpse of the emotions that live in the silence between each word.

Later that week, when you sit down to coordinate supply chain needs with your brother, you _accidentally_ downgrade the priority of filling the yakuza’s four urgent orders.


End file.
